Star Wars Rebels: Kanan Challenged
by SpecSeven
Summary: This is a one-shot that fills in a little detail between seasons 2 and 3. I'd been thinking about it for awhile, and then I read "Leia: Princess of Alderaan", and got an idea of how to add some slightly more interesting detail to it. This little story delves a bit more into Kanan's blindness, and both his and Hera's reaction to it. Spoilers for "Leia: Princess of Alderaan".


Hera stood with her arms folded across her chest, watching from some distance away as a surgical droid examined Kanan's now-nearly-healed injuries. They were aboard the medical frigate that had just recently been liberated from the Imperial Navy, and it currently orbited the salt-crusted planet of Crait.

The Viceroy and Senator of Alderaan, Bail Organa, stood beside her, thoughtfully rubbing his graying goatee.

This was their second trip to the medical frigate, which housed the most technologically advanced medical equipment available to the Alliance. When Kanan and Ezra returned from Malachor, Hera immediately got to work trying to restore Kanan's sight by any means possible. She contacted Commander Sato and apprised him of the situation: Kanan was gravely injured, and Ahsoka was lost. The news hit Commander Sato nearly as hard as it had her crew, and for a few uncomfortable seconds, even his flickering blue holo-image betrayed his dismay. But he quickly returned to task, informing Hera that he would make some calls.

The result was a trip to the medical frigate above Crait, by the personal invitation of Senator Organa.

"Kanan is perhaps the last surviving Jedi in the Galaxy," the Senator had told her, on that first visit. "That alone is reason enough to attempt to save his sight. But he's also badly needed, not just because of his abilities, but because of what he represents: hope."

"I agree, Senator. And we thank you for your assistance," Hera had responded, watching apprehensively as Kanan gritted his teeth at the surgical droid's probing.

"The loss of Ahsoka Tano, however..." Senator Organa had continued, "...it's a huge loss. She was a good friend."

Hera had turned to look at him. "She was a good friend to me and my crew, too. It's a tremendous loss for the entire Galaxy."

The surgical droid had told them, during that trip, that it was too soon to tell whether Kanan's sight would return at all, or if he would be a likely candidate for cybernetics. They had been advised to return in three weeks, and were provided with bacta dressings for the duration.

Now, three long weeks later, they were once again aboard the frigate. As Hera watched the droid examine Kanan, she wondered how it was even possible for her to feel _more_ anxiety than she had on their first visit. He'd been in so much pain then, both physically and emotionally, that she had found it nearly impossible to maintain her usual level of unflappable calm. Typically, she thrived under pressure, but seeing him like that was difficult to bear.

On this second exam, however, her anxiety felt much more deep-seated. She was seldom afraid of anything, but found that she was _very_ afraid of what it might do to Kanan if his sight couldn't be restored.

She watched the surgical droid run a scan of Kanan's eyes, which had acquired a milky, pearly appearance over the past few weeks, as a result of scar tissue. Hera had witnessed every step of the healing process due to her insistence at being present for each dressing change. Kanan tolerated it, as if a part of him wanted her there, but she got the distinct sense that he would have preferred only to deal with the medical staff on Atollon.

"You have better things to do," he'd told her.

"Better things?" she'd replied, with an edge to her voice. "Is that what you think?"

He'd ignored the question with a shrug.

Kanan now lay silently on the examination table with a grim look on his face. He had changed drastically in the past three weeks. The man she'd shared her life with for the last eight years would have likely made some sort of snarky comment, or some sort of stupid joke...or, even more likely, he would have been more concerned about _her_ reaction to all this, rather than his own. But since Malachor, he'd been distant, barely speaking to her, or anyone else in the crew. Hera could take him avoiding her. It hurt her, but she empathized with his situation, and she had handled much worse. What truly upset her, though, was his evasion of Ezra. Ezra blamed himself for what had happened on Malachor, and Hera resented Kanan for allowing him to continue to believe that.

Most attempts by the crew to connect with him had either been met with polite disinterest, or had outright failed. He'd allowed Sabine to paint Jaig Eyes on the protective mask he'd been fitted with on his first visit to the medical frigate, but that was about it. Sabine had told Kanan that Jaig Eyes were worn by Mandalorians who had been particularly brave in battle, and Kanan had only answered with a another shrug- his new go-to response to everything, it seemed.

The surgical droid examined Kanan for much longer than it had the first time, running test after test. Eventually, though, it turned slightly, so as to be heard by everyone in the room.

"The bacta dressings have done a reasonably good job in healing the surface damage, but there is scarring to both your face and your corneas that will never fully heal," the droid told Kanan. "As to your continued blindness: while it is fortunate that you were able, to some extent, to block the full brunt of the attack with your own lightsaber, the thermal injury is grave. I do not deal with lightsaber injuries; as a result, I had no way of knowing what to expect, as far as healing was concerned. Now that I have completed all the pertinent tests, however, it is clear that the damage is severe and complete, including irreversible damage to the optic nerve."

"Just say it," Kanan growled.

"Your vision cannot be restored. Nor are you a candidate for cybernetics."

Kanan sucked in a breath and closed his eyes. Hera stared at the droid in shock.

"That can't be right," she said, feeling something akin to panic rising in her. "Check again."

"I have run every test available, Captain Syndulla. Kanan Jarrus's vision cannot be restored."

"Check again!" Hera said, the volume of her voice much louder than she had intended.

"Do as she asks," Senator Organa ordered.

"No," Kanan said, swinging his legs over the side of the examination table and sitting up.

"Kanan-" Hera started.

"I said no, Hera. There's nothing they can do. So that's the end of it."

Senator Organa placed a gentle hand on her shoulder for a moment, and then turned and swiftly left the treatment bay.

Kanan groped for his mask, and the surgical droid obtained it and handed it to him. He slipped it over his face, and then took a deep, steadying breath.

"It's okay, Hera," he said flatly. "I won't be a burden to you."

"You could never be a burden to me," she said, watching the surgical droid make an tactful and silent exit from the bay.

"I'm not a help to you, either. So what good am I?"

She walked across the room to him, tentatively reaching out to touch his left hand, which rested on the edge of the examination table. His fingers twitched at the touch, but he didn't move to take her hand in his. She placed her hand on top of his, instead, despite knowing that he would feel the slight tremble that she could not will away. He turned his head towards her.

"Always as cool as a dead star," he murmured. It was a phrase he'd said often, in their time together- always in a voice full of admiration. This time, Hera detected an undercurrent of sarcasm in his tone.

"You know I'm not. Not always. Not when it comes to you," she told him.

"I don't know about that."

"Yes, you do. Don't do this, Kanan. We'll find a way through it together, just like we always do."

He shook his head. "This isn't something you can fix with sheer force of will. You can't force me to see. You can't talk me into healing."

"I know that," she said, trying to keep the exasperation from creeping into her voice. "But you've been shutting me out. Don't shut me out."

Kanan scratched the full beard he'd allowed to grow since his return from Malachor. "You have enough to deal with, without having to lead me around and take care of me."

"Is that why you're avoiding everyone? Because you don't want our pity?"

"I don't want anyone's pity. I just want everyone to leave me alone right now."

Hera sighed. "Okay, Kanan. We'll leave you alone. But when you're ready to come back to us, we'll be waiting for you."

The flight back to Atollon on the _Phantom_ was quiet. Kanan sat meditating in one of the jump seats, and Hera sat up front, staring into the electric blue convolution of hyperspace. Hera had always been able to share a comfortable silence with Kanan, but this was different. This silence was the result of him excluding her and rejecting her attempts to connect with him- something he'd never done before, even in times of great stress. She felt bereft; her partner and friend seemed to be gone, replaced by someone she didn't really know.

She docked the _Phantom_ with the _Ghost_ and followed Kanan down into her ship. He knew it so well that he didn't need assistance, but he didn't head back to his cabin- he walked down the cargo bay ramp and away from the base, probably to meditate. Hera had watched him many times from a distance, as he kneeled in the sand, with dokma sitting on his shoulders.

Sabine appeared next to Hera, emerging from the recesses of the _Ghost_. They watched together as Kanan made his way towards his usual meditation spot.

"You're back," Sabine said, but her tone indicated that she really wanted to ask what happened on the medical frigate, and couldn't bring herself to do so.

Hera decided against softening the blow, knowing Sabine would want it straight. "His sight can't be restored, and the optic nerves are too damaged for cybernetic eyes," she said, turning to look at Sabine.

Sabine's eyes widened in dismay. "Oh, no. How is he?"

"I don't really know," Hera replied. "He's avoiding me just as much as he's avoiding all of you. But, knowing him as well as I do...it's not good. He's really struggling with it. I don't know what's going to happen and...I'm worried."

"There must be a way to overcome this," Sabine said, steeling her voice. "If anyone can find it, it's Kanan. And once he does- once he sets his mind to it- he'll be okay."

Hera sighed. "Assuming he finds it. You're right, but I don't know if we can help him on this journey. And even if we could, he doesn't want us to. Tell Zeb, will you? I'm going to go find Ezra."

Sabine nodded, and she gave Hera a look that was full of sad affection. Sabine rarely expressed emotions verbally, and Hera had always appreciated and cherished the small moments of feeling that passed between them. She was more grateful for this one glance from Sabine than she would have been with a million embraces from someone she respected and admired less.

Hera turned away from Sabine and walked down the ramp in search of Ezra, heading into the base proper. She found him arguing with Chopper and AP-5 about weapons inventory.

"Chopper says that you're an idiot organic," AP-5 was telling Ezra, in his peculiar monotone.

"I know what he says," Ezra grumbled. "And _he's_ a glorified trash can, so I don't know where he gets off telling _me-"_

"Ezra," Hera interrupted.

Ezra's eyes turned to Hera, and the look on his face changed from aggravation to wariness.

"Can we talk?" she asked, gesturing away from the droids, who had both surprisingly fallen silent, likely due to curiosity.

"Sure," Ezra said, trying and failing to fake a nonchalant tone.

The two moved away, walking side by side. "Where's Kanan?" Ezra asked casually. His feigned detachment rang completely false; underneath it, he was still a boy who was worried for his mentor and friend.

"Meditating," Hera said shortly.

"That's new," Ezra responded, with more than a hint of sarcasm. He paused for a few seconds, then asked, "What did they say?"

Hera cleared her throat. Ezra was different than Sabine. He had a much less difficult time expressing his emotions, and a much harder time processing them. She didn't feel that she could be completely blunt with him.

"Ezra, Kanan's eyes were too damaged. The damage can't be reversed."

Ezra blinked, taken slightly aback. They'd all hoped against hope that Kanan's vision could be restored, perhaps relying too heavily on the promise of, and access to, better technology. This was what Ezra gravitated toward now. "But he can just get cybernetic eyeballs, though, right?" he asked.

Hera shook her head. "No, he can't. Cybernetic eyes require an intact optic nerve, and Kanan's were too damaged."

Ezra stared at her blankly. "He's blind...forever?"

"Unless they develop a way to replace optic nerves, yes." Hera's voice came out as a near-whisper on the word 'yes'.

"There has to be something else we can try. There has to be something we can do," Ezra said, balling his hands into fists.

"I'm afraid that, as of right now, there isn't."

Ezra frowned darkly. "This is all my fault," he muttered. "If I hadn't trusted Maul, if I had _been_ there..."

"Ezra, stop it. This is _not_ your fault. It's no one's fault," Hera told him, her voice harder now. Once again, she felt a spark of anger with Kanan. He had barely spoken to Ezra in three weeks, and it meant that Ezra believed it was because Kanan blamed him for everything.

"Tell that to Kanan. Or Rex."

"Losing Ahsoka was _absolutely_ not your fault, and you know that. And neither is Kanan losing his sight. You have to stop blaming yourself for this, Ezra. Bad things happen in life; if you blame yourself for all of them, the guilt will eat away at you until there's nothing left."

"He won't even talk to me," Ezra murmured.

"He won't talk to me, either. We have to give him some space and time to deal with this. It's a path he has to travel alone, I feel. When he finds his answers and makes peace with what happened to him, he'll come back to us." Hera was pleased to hear that her tone passed itself off as reasonably confident; the truth was that, even though she wanted to believe what she had said, she wasn't sure that she fully did.

Ezra looked uncertain, too, but he also looked a bit less miserable. Hera was willing to accept that as a step in the right direction.

"In any case," she said, "I need _your_ head in the game. I can't afford to lose two of my crew to this." It was best to refocus everyone on the work they had yet to do. Regardless of what was going on with Kanan, there was still an Empire to fight.

Ezra nodded, squaring his shoulders. "I'm with you, Hera. You can count on me."

Hera put her hand on Ezra's arm. "And you can count on me, too. I'm here for you, Ezra- even if Kanan isn't."

"Thanks," Ezra said, and his inflection told her that he truly meant it. "I better go see what Chopper and AP-5 are doing. They've been rearranging the whole inventory so that no one can find anything, except for them."

Hera found herself smiling a little- one of the first genuine smiles she'd felt on her own face in many weeks. "That's not good; you better go deal with it." Putting him back to work was the best thing for him.

She watched Ezra head back into the base, and then she walked to the top of the nearest dune, which was tall enough to allow her to see Kanan. He was kneeling, and presumably meditating, with a dokma sitting on each shoulder. She sighed and folded her arms across her chest.

"Come back to us, Kanan," she said, under her breath. "We need you. And you need us."

Author note:

I always wanted more of an explanation as to why Kanan has to remain blind, possibly due to my own personal medical background. I've seen some speculation about this in various places on the internet, and some have speculated that it was because the Alliance simply could not afford it. I never quite bought this. After Ahsoka's (alleged) passing, Kanan is the last (known) Jedi in the GFFA. I would imagine that the Alliance could manage to scrape the money together to get this dude some eyeballs. I also couldn't see Kanan turning cybernetic eyeballs down, especially after watching the first episode of S3. I suppose it's possible, though. My feeling is that he either turned it down- or his injuries were too extensive. I watched the scene where Maul blinds him a few times in slow motion, and it does look like Kanan manages to sort of get his lightsaber up in time, which might explain why he still has eyes at all- or, for that matter, the top of his head. I'm thinking that maybe Maul was aiming for his neck, and Kanan managed to deflect the blow enough that it only grazed his eyes. It's not really super clear in the clip, but I guess that's my headcanon, now. Because, really, do you think Maul would have deliberately _just_ blinded Kanan, instead of killing him outright? I don't. I can't remember if Maul actually brings this up, before he makes his second attempt at killing Kanan (I need to re-watch S3).

[Just to clarify: According to MY personal headcanon, Kanan's optic nerves are too damaged for him to get robot eyeballs. I don't know if this is true. There's nothing in SW (and it's unlikely there ever will be anything) to explain any of this. Optic nerves in our galaxy cannot be surgically repaired, nor do they regenerate, unlike with nerves in other parts of the body. Eyes are delicate and very easily damaged organs. Damaged corneas, and some other parts of the eyes, however, CAN be replaced with artificial components. Does that mean Kanan can't "see" shadows in the holocron light? No, it doesn't mean that. It's magical holocron light, so who knows. Also, to reiterate, I do in fact have a degree in a medical field and have some idea of what I'm talking about. But a simple google search can verify most of this information. Sorry for the salt, but I was driven to write this by rudeness.]

I also wanted to write this to flesh out my own headcanon as far as that S4 clip they showed in Toronto of Hera and Kanan. I think there's been some distance between them for awhile, given everything that happened in S3, and that might explain a bit more about their conversation, and the things they both say (which, on the surface, reads more like they're not even in a relationship yet- and don't get me started about that b.s.).

Might add to it more at some point, but not today.

The title is a play on "Zatoichi Challenged" (Zatoichi, a.k.a. The Blind Swordsman), a character that heavily influenced blind Kanan's arc.


End file.
